Chapter 50 - And Then...
The war ended. Chesswood had won, after their many great sacrifices.
The funerals for the dead didn’t last long because of the hunger of the living.
"It is a big deal.”
The residents rushed over to the ruined villages. Everything they built had turned into ash. Edelweiss supported the other villages, but there was a limit to the amount of food and supplies that could be shared.
Then a merchant company appeared, as if they had been waiting for the war to finish. They entered the ruined Chesswood with daily necessities, food, and building supplies. A memorandum was given to those who couldn’t pay the price.
All of them signed it. The residents who almost lost their lives had no qualms about risking their lives for their future.
Crockta frowned as he asked, “Derek?”
Derek was involved in the rebuilding process of the collapsed Chesswood and spread out his influence as a result. Now most of the residents of Chesswood were debtors who owed him.
Crockta didn’t ask anything more. He didn’t like Derek’s behavior, but there was nothing he could do. Beyond the good in the world, there was also selfishness and malice. If he had to choose, then he would prefer the former over the latter.
Derek bought the equipment from the dead users for more than their value.
"I see, this is how Derek works.”
"Yes. He does whatever he wants.”
After the situation was settled, Crockta looked for the users who helped Chesswood. They didn’t explain about the video because they thought Crockta was a NPC. They just said that they heard rumors of an honorable orc and came to help. Crockta inwardly laughed.
“Thank you for the help Iron.”
“No. I just did what I had to do.”
Iron and Crockta shook hands. Iron was very gentle when he wasn’t acting like a crazy necromancer. His attitude as he shook hands had no error, and even the angle of his line of sight was perfect.
This was the person who decimated a clan alone? Crockta felt admiration towards him. Iron sent him a mysterious smile and said, “This is my business card...”
“Ah, I made a mistake.” He flinched due to his habit of automatically stretched out his hand. "Please don't pay attention to it. Huhuhuhu.”
"Crockta, people like us will develop a deeper flavor as time passes, just like wine ripens.”
"It was great to meet you. You are a man that is like a bunch of burgundy grapes shining under the sun. I want to meet you again, just like opening the bottle of wine that I saved for the moment when it has the best flavor.”
Iron ran his finger over his eyebrows and then pointed it at the sky.
"Ah, yes... Take care of yourself.”
Iron laughed and turned away. He never looked back, just waving his hand high in the sky as he left. It seemed like this situation had inspired something. Crockta wanted to see him off, but then he felt a gaze on his from behind.
“That necromancer would have no problem joining our team if he has such a concept.”
“A nice guy.”
Another group that helped Chesswood, F4, admired Iron.
Crockta greeted them, "Thanks to you, I was able to defend the village.” At Crockta’s words, the warrior Bob emerged to represent the group.
"Honorable orc Crockta, do you see this?”
Bob held out his sword, the so-called X-Geiger. The sword was vibrating. As Crockta looked closer, Bob was lightly shaking the sword with fine wrist snaps.
"X-Geiger is crying out in response to your hot soul.”
What was this?
“Your hot heart has protected this peaceful village from the invaders! It allowed X-Geiger to lead us here!”
"Crockta, my X-Geiger is always thirsty. X-Geiger isn’t thirsty for water, alcohol, nor the enemy’s blood. My X-Geiger drinks...! Hup...!”
The elf Elia covered Bob’s mouth. Bob and Elia struggled for a while. Instead of them, the bearded magician Joseph stepped forward.
"I am the great sage. Honorable orc Crockta, this great sage has something to say to you.”
"Yes, Great Sage.”
"Keep the peace of Middle Earth.”
"You have to destroy the ring...!”
Crockta gave up thinking. Then it was Gary’s turn. The man with dark eyebrows hit Crockta’s shoulder. It was an intense gaze.
“Be well. We will be enemies when we meet again next time.”
Then he dramatically turned around.
Why would they be enemies, what...? Crockta couldn’t understand, but they seemed like people who really enjoyed Elder Lord. He bowed to express his appreciation.
"Aren’t they crazy over there...?”
The Orc Users Brotherhood shook their heads as they watched the scene. No matter how realistic the game was, there were some people who got too caught up in the concept. After speaking to F4, Crockta stood in front of the orcs.
Their eyes met. It was enough. The passionate eye contact between orcs!
Someone hit their thick chest and yelled, “Bul’tar──────! I’m alive! Brother!”
“Bul’tar──────! Stay alive, Brothers!”
They grabbed each other’s hands and slammed their shoulders against each other. Crockta also grabbed the hand of one of the orc brothers. It was close to a battle of strength.
“It was an honorable fight──────!”
"No one can stop the way of the orcs!”
“Victory and glory! If I can’t live then I would rather die──────!”
“Bul’tar! An honorable death rather than a subservient life!”
The orcs shouted together.
Soon everyone was standing shoulder to shoulder. Crockta started to sing, “We are orcs! The mighty orcs!”
All the orcs sang along.
“You’ll be in trouble if you mess with us! The great warriors have appeared!”
“Humans, get lost! Elves, get lost! Dwarves, get lost! You guys too!”
“Pretty women? Warriors have no need for a woman! We are great orcs, great warriors!”
“We are orcs! The mighty orcs!”
“You’ll be in trouble if you mess with us!”
The harsh harmonies shook the earth! The F4 group shook their heads as they watched the exciting festival of the orc users.
"We still have manners.”
“They sold their soul to the concept.”
"That is ‘real’...”
Crockta said farewell to the users and climbed Edelweiss’ hill with Jeremy. The tall hill looked over the villages of Chesswood spread out in a checkered pattern.
Blackmore was buried here. It was a short relationship. They had only walked together for a while, but it was enough time to feel his inner nature. He was a good man. On his grave, Crockta set down the musical instrument that Blackmore always carried around with him.
Crockta declared, "Jeremy."
"Where do people go if they die?”
Jeremy shrugged. "Well, I don't know. Won’t he go to Heaven because he died for others?”
Blackmore had gone to Heaven. Would it be Heaven if he was scattered around Elder Lord’s servers as packets of data?
Crockta looked at Jeremy. His face was tinged with the glow of the sun. Jeremy was a man who always grunted and spoke a lot. However, his eyes were currently red. Was it because of the glow or not?
Jeremy started to whistle. It was Blackmore’s song. The melody of the minstrel who longed for his hometown covered the hill as Jeremy whistled. Was someone whispering the words along with the whistle? Was Jeremy, hiding his wet eyes, just an electronic signal calculated by a computer? Was his grief just converted game data?
'If all these deaths are truly sad, go to the Temple of the Fallen God.’
The man's voice popped into his head.
Crockta walked towards a large rock on a corner of the hill. He used Ogre Slayer on it, slicing the enormous rock into the shape of a cross. He moved it and set it down on Blackmore’s grave.
Crocka carved an epitaph for Blackmore using the tip of the sword. He was dead, so this was the only thing Crockta could do.
Jeremy spoke from behind Crockta, "Crockta.”
He had always called Crockta ‘Orc brother’. It was strange hearing Jeremy’s voice call his name. Crockta looked at Jeremy. "Boss sent me some information about those bastards.”
"Brother, whatever you do, I would like to go with you.”
Jeremy's eyes were serious. Crockta laughed.
"What, why are you laughing? Don’t get me wrong, I just don’t like those guys.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
"Your eyes look awful,” Jeremy grumbled.
Crockta completed the gravestone. Jeremy approached and touched the words. "I'll go to hell anyway, so I will never meet you again.”
A minstrel who matched Heaven, Blackmore.
“Goodbye, Minstrel Brother.”
Crockta and Jeremy left Blackmore’s grave. It was another farewell. As the wind blew, the sound of Blackmore’s instrument rang through the hills. The clear sound was heard.
Crockta and Jeremy waved their hands in response.
Derek signed the paper.
"It is nothing.”
Ever since Jeremy left, Derek had another subordinate doing his role. Derek leaned his elbow on the office table and touched his chin.
"What did Jeremy reply?”
“He will watch the orc a little more.”
He didn't believe it. Jeremy was probably excited by Crockta, and wanted to go together with him more. Jeremy was such a person. He pretended to be cold-blooded and rough, but he couldn’t easily shake it off once he felt affection for someone.
"...Boss, will this really result in some money?”
“If you open up your mind, then you will see the path.”
"How do you know to invest in this?”
“If you are talking about the reconstruction project, of course I don’t know. That’s why I will recollect it later.”
Derek grabbed a piece of paper and started writing a letter. The recipient was Jeremy.
"Investment doesn’t necessarily mean monetary gain.”
“Keep this in mind. Preparing for future risks can also be called an investment from a broad perspective.” Derek continued to move his pen. The length of the letter got longer. "In order to figure out the profits, I need to know the anxiety factors.”
Derek raised the letter instead of answering. He placed it in an envelope and sealed it with candle wax. He extended it to the man.
"Do you understand that I know who will betray me later?”
"Take care of it.”
The man nodded. Derek’s expression indicated that there should be no more questions asked. The subordinate immediately retreated and left Derek’s office. The door closed and Derek buried himself in his chair.
He recalled Jeremy’s face. He had been a boy living in the rough back alleys that grew up into a fine, young man. Jeremy grew so well that he was about to break the line that Derek had hung around his neck.
"One day it would come.”
Derek smiled. The feast had to end one day. Once the feast was over, the table would be cleaned up.
Praise the Orc: Glossary Link.
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